Sustainability

Galilee Diary #582, July 25, 2012
Marc Rosenstein

When the Holy One Blessed be He created the first humans, he showed
them all the trees in the Garden of Eden, and said to them: See how
wonderful and pleasant are my creations! Everything I created  I
created for you. Take care not to spoil or destroy my world, for if you
do, there is no one to fix it for you.
-Midrash Ecclesiastes Rabbah 7:13

Traveling
recently with a study tour of young American Jewish professionals, we
were connected by the environmental study center at the Sde Boker
College in the heart of the Negev with a Bedouin who is trying to help
his community reclaim some of the environmental and health benefits of
their traditional way of life. Salman received us in a tent, in a small
sprawl of tents and shacks a few hundred yards off the main highway
through the central Negev. While bread baked in the coals, he presented a
[somewhat romanticized, I think] description of the "good old days"
when the Bedouin lived in harmony with nature, using just what they
needed. Those were days, he said, of happy and disciplined  and healthy
 children, and a simple but high quality life. In recent decades,
however, controversial government policies seeking to control and even
urbanize the Bedouin, the influence of western culture, and the influx
of modern innovations (like plastic bags) have destroyed this idyll,
resulting in bored and alienated children, health problems, and
pollution. When your waste was organic and minimal, tossing it into the
desert was a good idea, and it would be rapidly recycled. When you buy
lots of stuff in packages, tossing the waste into the desert is
disastrous, and the results are blowing in the wind all over the Negev.
Salman has a vision of re-educating his own community to learn how to
live in balance, restoring traditional values and customs while choosing
thoughtfully from the tempting attractions of western consumerism. Not a
simple challenge.

Meanwhile, back in the metropolis, we also visited Hiriyah. Just east
of Tel Aviv, this served as the Tel Aviv metropolitan garbage dump from
the early 50s until it was closed in the 90s. During that time it grew
to a mountain rising nearly 200 feet above the flat coastal plain,
visible for miles. Among other dangerous nuisances it generated, the
flocks of gulls it attracted posed a major danger to airliners landing
at Ben Gurion airport. Since decommissioning, a reclamation project has
been underway and is very impressive. The mountain and its surroundings
are being converted into Ariel Sharon Park, which will be the largest
park in Israel, with recycling facilities, an education center, fields
and gardens and walking trails and water-ways  and a look-out with a
commanding view of central Israel. All the energy consumed by the entire
facility is produced from methane generated by the buried layers of
garbage. The bright and airy education center is cleverly furnished with
objects reclaimed from trash, and runs recycling art programs for
schools and camps.

So where is all the garbage going now? Today, at the base of the
mountain is a large pit covered by a corrugated metal roof; this is the
transfer station, in which all the region's garbage is dumped (1,000
trucks daily), to be loaded in giant tandem trailers for trucking to the
Negev. Standing on the catwalk around the transfer pit, watching the
bulldozers working the vast quantities of garbage, it is hard not to
wonder if we really can't find a better way. We put our trash out in the
morning and it disappears within a few hours. Unless we visit the
Hiriya transfer station, we have no awareness of what becomes of it, and
of the resources devoted to is removal from our sight.

Salman may have some hope of returning his neighbors to a simpler,
more organic lifestyle (unless they all get buried first under the urban
detritus of their more modern neighbors to the north). But what about
the rest of us?